Jello Shots and Vampires
by BlueEyedDemonLiz
Summary: A drunk Sam gets himself into a little trouble in a bar, good thing big brother's never far away. Winner of the Supernatural.TV fanfic creature challenge April 2008.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I'm posting this short piece to get a little feedback, as it's my first ever attempt at a fanfic challenge. The prompt is to write a short about vampires, which must have the Winchesters in it (I'm greedy so I've stuck both Sam and Dean in). Anyway this is my first effort. Here's part one and I'll stick part two up asap._

_Usual 'does anyone actually read this part' disclaimers apply._

**Jello shots and Vampires – Part One**

"There isn't a whole lot I can tell you, Sammy. A vampire is a vampire, you stake the sucker and you're gonna get nowhere fast. You decapitate the son of a bitch and you'll get your very own vampire light show."

"Really? They _really_ go up in flames after you decapitate them?" Sam asked, disbelief clouding his expression as he took another long swig from the bottle of Pepsi he was carrying.

Dean nodded enthusiastically. "Poof. Vampire flambé."

"Poof? And you've seen it happen?"

"I might've killed a vampire or two in my time." Dean tried not to add a swagger to his step as they walked.

"Oh yeah, when?"

"When what?"

"When did Dean the Vampire Slayer do his slaying exactly? I don't remember Dad ever mentioning anything about a vampire hunt."

"You were too young to remember."

"That's convenient."

"What, you think I'm kidding? I'm telling you dude this case; it reeks of a vampire nest. Tourists going missing, a gang of bikers taking up residence in the area. I can read the signs. I know vampires."

"So, what, you're the Vampire Whisperer now?"

Dean turned and gave his brother a wide grin, "If the name fits."

"Dean." Sam plonked himself down on the nearest bench in exasperation. "I don't like it, man. We've not done any research; all we're going on is a few eye-witness accounts."

"And?"

"And what?"

"And Dean the Vampire Whisperer's say so." Dean settled himself down on the bench next to his brother and leaned back, sticking his legs out in front of him. "This case is as sweet as it gets. Vampires Sam, they're like total old school hammer horror."

Sam sighed heavily, trying not to notice the way Dean's knee was bouncing up and down with poorly concealed excitement. "So, what do we do now oh great Vampire Whisperer?"

Dean nodded approvingly. "We scope the local hangouts. See if we can't find ourselves this biker gang."

"And by that you mean we're gonna check out the local bars?"

"Sam, Sam, Sam how quickly you learn. We'll make a Vampire Whisperer out of you yet." Dean rose from the bench, setting off in the general direction of heavily lit storefronts and flashing neon bar signs. "Come on, I've heard they're doing green jello shots at O'Neill's."

Sam's frown grew, engulfing his face in a huge scowl.

"Dude, it's St Patrick's Day. Who doesn't want green shots on St Patrick's Day?" Dean looked round noticing Sam's frown wasn't going anywhere. He huffed disappointedly. "You're no fun, you know that? In fact, don't answer that one."

_**-Several hours later-**_

Sam pushed his way through the packed bar in the general direction of the men's restroom. He felt pretty nauseous. The contents of his stomach swilled around dangerously as he hurried his wobbly steps before said contents got the chance to make a guest appearance. Sam really didn't want to admit to his older, still apparently sober, brother that little brother was going to vomit his one beer and seven Leprechaun green whisky jello shots all over his sneakers if he didn't get to the john like yesterday. _Anyway,_ _who the heck would choose to drink green whisky jello? _Sam thought with a disgusted pang of regret..._Sammy Winchester that's who_. _What an idiot_, Sam chided himself, _it only took Dean calling you a prissy-assed geek boy and there you were downing shots like your throat was on fire._

Sam shoved the bathroom door open and raced into one of the stalls. Locking the stall door behind him, he lent over the porcelain bowl bracing himself with one hand pressed against the grubby wall. His vision swam and for a second Sam wasn't quite sure which of the two toilet bowls he should try aiming for. Then it didn't really matter as he suddenly, violently, vomited...all over the floor. Splattering his last clean pair of jeans with globules of lurid lime green. _I'm never drinking again...or eating, _Sam added remembering with revulsion the greasy diner Dean had insisted on having lunch in earlier that day and the mystery meat special he had ordered for them both whilst Sam was still collecting his laptop from the Impala.

Sam's misery was abruptly interrupted as the door to the bathroom swung open with a bang and he overheard raised voices entering the room. Sam wiped a thin string of puke from his lips with the back of his sleeve and lent forwards to peer through the crack in the stall door. He could see two huge men taking a leak into the grimy looking urinals whilst engaged in a furious debate.

"I'm telling you, that guy in the brown leather jacket out there is a hunter." Huge guy with a moustache said to his moustache-less beer gut carrying friend. Sam's ear squashed itself closer into the gap to listen.

"So what." Beer Gut replied disinterested, apparently pissing was much more entertaining. After a few tinkle filled seconds, he added "He wouldn't be the first hunter we've killed. Those guys, they get cocky, till they realize what they're up against. I guess it could be fun. I need a little fun."

"You don't find killing tourists fun?" Moustache asked, stunned and pulling at his uncooperative trouser zipper.

"They're tasty but they get all high-pitched and whiny before I even get to show them my game face." Beer Gut answered. "Let's take the hunter; I want to see him put up a fight, please Boris?"

_They're gonna take Dean. _Sam's eyes widened and he knew he'd heard enough. His drunken irrational side took hold as he unlocked the door to his stall and slammed it open. Boris jumped in surprise, trapping a sensitive part of his anatomy in his zipper. "Wanna play with a hunter? Play with me-meee." Sam slurred reaching into his back pocket for his trusty..._oh shit_...his knife wasn't being very trusty at that moment as Sam quickly remembered he'd left it by his bed back at the motel.

Boris let out a pained yell as he yanked himself free from his zipper and lunged at Sam. He easily grabbed hold of the inebriated Winchester, shoving Sam to the floor before pinning him underneath his gigantic bulk. Boris leaned close, his breath hot and sticky against Sam's neck. "Looky, looky, we're gonna get two hunters on a hooky."

"Dude, did you just make a rhyme?" Sam giggled before stopping short and wondering just how much bacteria was living on the yellowing floor tiles his cheek was pressed against.

Beer Gut looked down on Sam, evidently unimpressed and more than a little disappointed. "Boris, he's no hunter. Look at him, man. He's not even making an effort to kill us. It's pathetic."

"I left my knife at the motel okay? Geez, I'm not Mr. Perfect you know." Sam's irked response was somewhat muffled.

"Let's just kill him, put the sorry runt out of his misery." Beer Gut grumbled, apparently disinterested once again.

"Hey, I'm no runt, I'm tall Sammy." Sam struggled under Boris' weight, eager to stand up and prove his point.

Boris sighed and patted the back of Sam's head. "Really kid, I feel let down." He opened his mouth and a set of vicious razor-sharp retractable vampire teeth sank into view. He bent forward digging his teeth into the smooth flesh of Sam's neck as Sam squirmed to get away.

"Hey Sam, you fall in? You're missing the band. The lead singer looks just like that bald chick Sinead..."

Although Sam couldn't lift his head off the floor thanks to fat-ass Boris sitting on his head, Dean's voice was unmistakable. " Deannn!" Sam shouted out, barely aware of the dulled pain he was in. "Now you're in trouble Boris." He added triumphantly.

"Hey! Get the hell off him, my brother look like a Slurpee to you?" Dean's voice was brimming with rage.

"Looks like this one brought his knife to the party, Boris." Beer Gut said, a little cheerful at last.

"Oh I brought more than that fugly." Dean smiled reaching into his pocket and pulling out a hip flask. He quickly unscrewed it and with a swift snap of his wrist, sent holy water flying at the two vampires holding his brother down.

Beer Gut let out a confused yelp as the water hit his face. "Awww, man." He whined turning to Boris, "He just flicked water in my eye."

Dean paused waiting for the sound of hissing flesh. It didn't come. Beer Gut took the opportunity to grab a bewildered Dean and shove him to the floor so that his face was pressed a few inches away from Sam's. Sam turned his head awkwardly and peered at Dean. "I thought you'd done this before, Dean. _You know vampires-_-that's what you said isn't it?"

"Would you be mad at me if I said I haven't killed a vampire before?"

"You lied to me? What the hell for, Dean? And what were you thinking—holy water?"

Dean looked away embarrassed, as much as he could do with Beer Gut's knee pressing into his back. "I thought it was worth a try." He paused as Sam let out an angry huff of air. "I didn't mean to lie. I was trying to impress you okay; you used to think I was some big superhero or something."

Sam raised an eyebrow stunned. "Dean, I was six and I was convinced you and dad were in the X-Men. Anyway, I never stopped looking up to you. You're my big brother."

Dean's smile was warm and genuine as it lit up his face.

"Shall we give you guys a moment alone?" Boris asked, grabbing himself a handful of Sam's hair and yanking his head back off the ground. Sam released a sharp gasp of pain.

Seeing Sam in pain was the only incentive Dean needed. The smile wiped from his face, he flipped himself onto his back and raising his leg so that his foot was against Beer Gut's rather large belly he shoved, hard. Beer Gut fell backwards, arms whirling in huge circles seeking desperately for purchase before his head slammed into the edge of one of the urinals knocking him unconscious. Dean was off the floor in a flash, pulling Boris off his brother and ramming his knife against Boris' throat. Boris screwed his eyes closed, his adam's apple twitching convulsively as the tip of Dean's blade bit into his skin. "Where's the rest of your nest?"

Boris popped one eye open to stare at Dean. "There are no others, only Sid and me."

"What?" Dean pressed the blade in a little harder, "you can't have just two people in a biker gang dude."

Boris looked offended. "Membership's been a little slow lately."

Sam struggled to pull himself to his feet and stood before Boris swaying slightly. "See, I am tall." He beamed broadly as Dean shot him a confused glance.

-0-

_Thanks for reading. Part 2 up soon. Please hit the little button and review, I could really do with some feedback._


	2. Chapter 2

_It's official - you lot are __**fab**__. Hopefully I've managed to personally thank everyone who left a review. _

_Btw - part one has now been beta'ed. I'm getting achy knees from bowing at the feet of the amazing grkgrl88 who showed me the correct way to describe toilets using USA speak. I was __almost__ going to write 'loo' at one point, as that's what we call them here in the UK._

**Jello Shots and Vampires – Part Two**  


"Dude. You're wasted?" Dean asked glaring angrily at Sam.

Sam pouted. "Maybe an incy wincy bit." He replied holding his finger and thumb apart to indicate a tiny gap which would have been a more convincing example of his sobriety had he not been going cross-eyed as he gawked at his hand.

"We're hunting vampires and you get loaded? Man. I should have known you couldn't handle all those Leprechaun shots you were knocking back. I only wanted you to _taste_ one not pickle yourself in the stuff."

Sam pouted again with more emphasis. "Guess you're not the only one trying to impress."

Dean scowled in response, deep lines rippling across his forehead in waves. Boris jerked his head towards Sam, wincing as Dean's knife bit a little deeper into his neck. "You've had one of those Leprechaun green jello shots? Really? They're meant to be hardcore; I've been trying to convince Sid to give them a try all night." Boris said somewhat in awe.

"I've had seven." Sam replied with an air of nonchalance as he held up nine fingers.

"Man, I'm impressed. Now you come to mention it, your blood did have a tasty zingy aftertaste."

"Thanks. That'll have been the lime." Sam smiled as if paid a huge compliment.

"Can we cut the warm and fuzzies crap please and get to the decapitation part. I've got a zingy little something waiting for me at the bar and she ain't a Leprechaun." Dean glowered, transparently fed up.

Boris eyeballed the knife held in Dean's hand. "You're going to decapitate me with that tiny thing?"

Dean turned to Sam and held out his hand. "Machete, Sam." Sam glanced at Dean's open hand, then at Dean's face, then back at Dean's open hand again. Dean waggled his fingers emphatically. "Give-me-your-machete, Sammy." Dean growled. Not overly impressed with what Sam's drunkenness was doing for the Winchester kick ass hunter reputation.

Sam's jaw dropped as he remembered he had a machete strapped to his leg in a sheath and it had indeed been there all night. He rushed to grapple with the complicated task of rolling up his trouser leg. Meanwhile Boris had spotted Beer Gut stirring awake from where he lay underneath the urinals. With a signalling wink from Boris, Beer Gut clambered unsteadily to his feet and made a dive for Sam, who was busily tugging at his ankle. The force of Beer Gut's considerable weight knocked Sam flying towards one of the stall doors. Boris used the distraction to slam his head forward so that it smashed into Dean's face. Dean's hands flew to his nose, which was by now spurting blood. His knife clattering to the floor in the commotion.

Sam groaned as Beer Gut lifted and pinned him against the far wall, promptly sinking his teeth into Sam's neck on the unharmed side where Boris hadn't already been sucking. "Hmmm zingy." Beer Gut said in rapture as he drank and Sam's clumsy struggles began to weaken.

Dean, weapon-less and witnessing the sight of his little brother being drained of blood, felt himself begin to grow mad. Boris stared at him, licking his lips at the sight of the blood still dripping from Dean's nose but apparently conflicted over whether to feed on Dean or get himself another taste of the alcohol-rich blood Sam had to offer. Like a kid in a candy store his eyes kept flicking greedily from one Winchester meal to the other.

Both Boris and Beer Gut froze as the restroom door opened and a short chubby faced man wearing kaki pants and a pair of brown sandals over thick socks came into the room. The man also froze as he saw Sam pressed against the wall by Beer Gut. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably as Beer Gut released his grip on Sam, who consequently slid down the wall to the floor. Beer Gut spun around and glared irritably at the man. "Sorry-sorry, I didn't realize it was _that_ sort of bar." The man stuttered, clearly petrified as he hastily exited the room. The door slamming closed behind him.

Beer Gut turned back to Sam's limp form in time to be greeted by a heavy toilet tank lid, which Dean swung like he was trying for a home run, cracking it against Beer Gut's skull. The lid broke in two as it met the resistance of Beer Gut's face and Beer Gut plummeted to the floor in a boneless heap.

Dean, still clutching one of the broken pieces of lid, turned swinging it again. This time aiming for Boris' chin. It hit with a sickening crack and Boris dropped like a stone. Dean threw the heavy piece of porcelain aside and hurried over to where Sam lay, pale and unmoving. Dean crouched next to his brother and put his fingers into the blood slick at Sam's neck worriedly searching for a pulse. "Sammy? Don't do this to me." Dean could feel his eyes begin to sting and he wiped at them roughly with the back of his hand. "Sammy?" He tried again, the tremble in his voice betraying his panic.

"G-germs." Sam mumbled his head tossing weakly from side to side.

"What? Say that again Sammy?"

Sam's eyes cracked open and he raised his head mere inches off the sticky floor. Lifting a hand to rub at his face he let Dean guide his head back down to rest upon Dean's knees. "Germs, man, _germs_. This floor is disgusting."

Dean laughed, too long and too loud. Achingly relieved to hear Sam sounding like Sam. "Tell me about it. I'm sitting on it." Dean grumbled, though he really didn't give a crap. He'd sit on much worse than a urine discolored floor if it meant Sam was okay.

Sam stared up at Dean. He felt weak and woozy. Blood loss and whisky making the room spin like a fairground ride. He could feel Dean's fingers fiddling to remove the machete from his leg. "Give me a minute." Dean whispered glancing briefly down at Sam before shifting Sam's head gently off of his knees. Sam was about to protest at having his head put back down on the gross floor but his mouth slammed shut again as he felt something soft and comfortable placed under his head as a makeshift pillow. His heart flooded with warmth when he realized it was Dean's precious leather jacket.

Sam lay for awhile peacefully drifting. Only faintly aware of the sound of the machete, whistling through air before slicing into flesh and bone. He might have fallen asleep as unexpectedly Dean was by his side again, carefully lifting him up. Once upright and leaning heavily on Dean, Sam stood motionless, staring at the headless bodies of Boris and Beer Gut.

"Sam?" Dean asked bemused.

"They didn't go poof."

Dean shrugged apologetically. "Guess I over-exaggerated that part. Come on; let's get you back to the motel. You can sleep off all those Leprechaun shots and Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"You're going to have a killer hangover in the morning. You know hangovers make you wake up crabby, like a guy being poked in the ass by a pitchfork. So no more Leprechauns okay?"

"No more Leprechauns." Sam agreed nodding hard. _And if that wasn't the weirdest thing he'd ever said, he really didn't know what was._

Dean glanced longingly at the restroom door, knowing they couldn't exactly take the easy route and walk back through the bar. Sam's neck and jacket collar were saturated with blood and the bottom half of Dean's face was smeared red with the blood from his nose. So that he looked like he'd been the one chowing down on Sam's neck. He grabbed hold of Sam and hoisted him up towards the small bathroom window, grunting at the effort and absently wondering if little brother had been eating lead recently. As he lifted Sam, Dean mourned the loss of the hot girl in the bar who was, no doubt, getting zingy with someone else by now.

"Dean. I think you've earned the title 'Vampire Whisperer'." Sam said as his head and shoulders disappeared through the open window.

"Nah dude. It's too lame, I've decided to go with Awesome McAwesome."

Dean gave Sam's backside a light shove so that the rest of his brother vanished through the window as he grinned affectionately at the sound of Sam's giggling.

-0-

_If you liked it, even just a tiny bit, please let me know. I could have written more but there's a story length limit for the fanfic challenge and it seemed like a good a place to end as any._


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